The Meteorfall
by show-addicted
Summary: The Meteorfall was the apocalypse. Few survived. The disease, the final result of the Meteorfall, will slowly destroy humanity. A group of pilgrims sets out to see Midgar, the destroyed city where it had started. Where will the pilgrimage lead? yaoi ins
1. The disease

_A/N: Here it is, the first chapter of my multi-chapter AU story. It's going to suck majorly. Please forgive and review xd_

How do you describe a world that's ended? What can you say when you are a witness of something your mind will not handle, when you survive the collapse of the whole planet and your brain just refuses to grasp it?

The answer is: nothing. For those that survived, there was nothing left to say. Talking about the Meteorfall brought guilt, grief, regrets. It helped nobody. They were mourning even without remembering what had happened. Life became hard enough as it was.

Midgar was completely destroyed. Nobody survived not only there; the whole continent turned into a desert, devoid of life, after having taken most of the impact of the fall. Further away from the giant mako-filled crater where once, the city of Kalm was, some more defensive kinds of tall, dry grass managed to grow, covering the ground of sands. Surely, the grass would die soon, too. The climate turned too cold, succeeding in killing most of the insects on the continent. There was no water. It wasn't a place where anything could exist.

Surely, everything was going to die. Surely, there was no hope. But humans are stubborn creatures. Those that managed to live through the crisis gathered together in three places that weren't as damaged as most.

Wutai. Corel. Banora, or rather, what was left of the once-prosperous village. The three places that were still good enough for people to live in. Plants could be harvested there, animals could be bred in small amounts. The climate wasn't as cold as everywhere else. The three camps of humanity that survived the end of the world. Against everything.

Crowded, overly so. The three places for those that lived and while hundreds of people were few when compared to the hundreds of thousands that died, it was still too many for the limited space they had to share. It caused hunger, thirst, poverty. It caused crime rate higher than it had ever been before the Meteorfall. It, ultimately, caused the disease.

Crawling in the ruins of small villages, amongst the debris, feeding off of people too weak to fight it off, of temperatures too low to keep the survivors warm even during daytime, of poverty and hunger was the disease that couldn't be fought.

They called it the geostigma. It attacked parts of the body creating wounds, blackening the skin, making it rot. Black, thick blood seeped through the wounds and slowly, the disease was spreading, causing more and more pain to the infected – eventually being the reason of death. Geostigma was the final result of the Meteorfall. The final end of the world.

* * *

Tifa Lockhart was one of the few lucky people in the Wutain colony that didn't have it. She didn't know why; after all, she did take care of those that were too sick to do anything by themselves. She held their hands while they were dying, screaming obscenities, crying and cursing her to all hells. If they wanted to listen, she told them about the Lifestream, the source of all Life on the Planet. She told them all about Aerith, the last of the Ancients that was waiting there in the Lifestream, waiting somewhere where nothing hurt anymore, waiting for them, to make it all better. She didn't believe a single word she told them. Lying wasn't always wrong. Not when it could help them die peacefully.

Tifa spent most of the time in the set-up, poor excuse for a hospital just outside the village. And yet, she didn't catch geostigma. People that she helped called her an angel, sometimes; those that were too sick to live in the village with the healthy, but not sick enough to hate the whole world for their pain. She didn't feel accomplished. She never could.

She'd buried Barret not even a week ago. He was in too much pain; he'd called her things he probably didn't think, he'd told her how unfair it was that she lived and he was about to die. She knew he didn't mean any of it.

She hated herself for not being able to do anything for him. For being perfectly healthy when black blood filled his lungs, making breathing an excruciatingly torturous process. For letting him die without saying good-bye to Marlene.

'Are you doing it again, Tifa?' Yuffie asked, putting a hand on her arm, succeeding in bringing her out of her reverie. 'You're blaming yourself.'

'Yes, I am,' Tifa replied, sighing and avoiding looking at the tiny Wutain princess. She didn't want to see the black spot of geostigma on the younger girl's forehead. She didn't need to see it to know it has grown since last time.

Two months? Maybe three, if the pain didn't kill her too soon.

'Stop doing it,' Yuffie said firmly. 'It's not helping anyone when you blame yourself.'

'But I...'

'You did nothing wrong! The Meteorfall wasn't your fault and so isn't geostigma! It's not your fault that Barret had it and died! It's not your fault I have it. It can't be helped! So stop your brooding and live already. We can't, but you are healthy. Take advantage of that!'

'I can't, Yuffie,' Tifa whispered and it was final.

Vincent Valentine didn't live in Wutai. He just... came there, to take a look around, to hang around people, even if only for a moment. He spent time with people that he considered friends, because it was probably the last chance he had of doing so. He didn't manage to say good-bye to Barret...

Vincent's body was completely immune to the geostigma, as well as many other diseases. The man wasn't sure if he could really die after all the things that had been done to him. The end of all humanity was near, but he was not human. He was a monster that had to watch the downfall of the world.

A few weeks ago, he'd seen Cloud Strife. The blonde's condition was bad. His whole left arm was infected with geostigma, but that was the least of his problems. He was a broken man who didn't manage to do his bid – to save the world. He couldn't even live on his own there, in Corel. Cid Highwind was with him and they were travelling, not capable of staying – of dying – in one place.

Vincent shook his head. He was not about to change anybody's life, even if he could. Yuffie had asked him many times to leave Wutai and take Tifa somewhere she wouldn't see so much death. He never tried. He respected Tifa's choice.

Why wouldn't he?

This "city" was a joke. Even though the sick were isolated, kept away from the healthy, the streets were still crowded, filled with hungry beggars, even hungrier children, cheap prostitutes and those that simply didn't care anymore. Most of them wouldn't live through the winter. The temperature was reaching really low levels already. It could only get worse.

Suddenly, a figure caught his attention. A lithe silhouette of a man, probably; sitting by the wall, supported by it. His face was partially covered by a hood from his over-sized cloak, but still, it wasn't hard for Vincent to make out his features. His fierce red hair also helped, as did his facial scars.

'Reno,' Vincent said softly, making the Turk almost jump up in surprise. The redhead looked at him, or rather, seemed to – it was easy for the dark-haired gunman to establish that Reno wasn't seeing him at all. Nor was he seeing anything else. 'Reno, it is you.'

'I... I ain't tellin' ya a thing,' the redhead muttered, 'no matter whoever ya are.'

'I didn't expect you to,' Vincent replied. 'I can take you somewhere warm. I think there might be some food I will never eat that can help you, too,' he reached up and pulled Reno to his feet before the Turk could protest. So much for not barging into people's lives.

'Why ya tryin'?' Reno asked, probably talking just so it would cover up the fact that his legs were shaking and he simply couldn't stand at all without Vincent's support. 'I'm the bad guy, remember, Valentine?'

'You're making it... hard to forget, I dare say,' Vincent said while still helping the redhead stand. Or walk, to be precise. And, just as the words left his mouth, Reno stiffened before chuckling softly – sadly – and shaking his head.

'Ya sound like him,' he explained his unusual behaviour. Nothing else.

For some reason, Vincent did understand.


	2. Death

_A/N: The second chapter. It's still just the beginning. Soon something will happen, I promise – but we have to let the situation develop, right? Xd Please enjoy and review. Yes, I'm a shameless beggar xd If I have no reviews, I'm not writing this, haha. Bad Mad. _

Reno was hungry. He hadn't eaten anything for days; his pride didn't let him beg for food on the streets and so, he almost starved himself to death. Vincent could tell just by looking at the redhead devouring the bread and meat he was given. Even though the bread had a foul taste, made of flour mixed with powdered sand to increase the quantity of produced loaves, and the meat was dry and salty – Reno still ate it as if he'd never had anything better in his life. When he finished, Vincent just brought him more, not asking if he should.

'They said nobody survived in Midgar,' the dark-haired man said softly, observing the eating Turk. He didn't miss the way Reno's lithe form stiffened at the words. 'Yet, here you are. Were you out on a mission?'

Reno shook his head, swallowing a bite of meat. Vincent could see how not only his blinded eyes lost their light. Even the redhead's once fierce hair became flat, unhealthy. Life wasn't doing Reno any good.

'Me, 'Laney and Rude, we kinda survived,' the Turk said and his voice sounded just as flat as his hair looked. 'They're both sick. 'Laney's gonna die in a couple of days. Rude's takin' care of her. He'd doin' good, but for how long?'

'You survived in Midgar, and yet you're here in Wutai?' Vincent asked. He wasn't curious. He was only asking because he knew Reno wanted to talk. It wasn't hard to see. The redhead wanted to talk because he didn't want to think.

'Not Midgar,' the Turk shook his head. 'Close, but not Midgar. Outside. An assignment that kinda... saved our lives,' he chuckled to himself. 'I only remember pain. Ya know, the Weapon's attack, it was too bright, the explosion, and it hurt so much I thought I was dyin',' he laughed again, bitterly. 'I dunno how we got here. It could've been Rude comin' up with that. I just... kinda woke up alone on the streets not knowin' where I was. Then Rude's here tellin' me they leave me 'cuz they're sick.'

'How long ago?'

'A few days, maybe.'

So, Reno hadn't eaten for a few days, just as Vincent thought. He also slept on the streets, if it could be called sleeping. He was cold and exhausted. The gunman doubted the redhead's only health problem was the loss of sight. He wondered what else could it be.

'Will ya... I dunno, kick me out again?' Reno asked suddenly, anxiously. Still too proud to ask him for a place to stay. Vincent couldn't help but wonder how a person with a history as complicated – as dark – as the redhead's, have so much pride. Maybe he was holding on to it just because he had nothing else left.

'No, I'm not. I don't sleep. You can have my bed. I'm keeping you here until you can manage on your own... or get sick,' Vincent offered, even letting himself smile gently at his guest. Even though Reno couldn't see it.

'Valentine...' the redhead started and then shook his head. 'Thanks, I guess. For doin' all this shit for me.'

Vincent made him hot tea instead of replying.

According to the redhead, he looked much worse than he felt. His body was covered with nasty bruises, scratches and cuts. He said he bruised easily, but Vincent was almost sure it had a different reason. Somebody must have abused the redhead during those days all alone on the streets. The fact that Reno denied it while blushing furiously in humiliation meant he was right. He didn't push it.

After all, why should he care?

He'd found a blackening spot on Reno's back while helping the redhead bathe. He scratched at it lightly and saw the Turk wince. So, he had the geostigma, too. Just the beginning of the disease, which meant he wasn't infected when he'd first come to Wutai. Somebody infected him. It wasn't fair.

'Stop pokin' me there, Valentine, it fuckin' hurts! Ya found sumthin' there or what?' Reno protested and Vincent sighed. He caressed the pinkish skin around the blackening spot before noticing that his hand acted on it's own will.

He didn't intend to caress Reno in any way.

'Valentine? I feel stupid, can ya stop?' The redhead complained again.

'You've got geostigma,' Vincent replied, trying to sound emotionless. He saw how the Turk's shoulders stiffened and relaxed. He saw Reno smile and shake his head.

'Guess I'm gonna die too,' the redhead said. 'At least the Turks will all go together...' he trailed off.

Vincent didn's say anything.

Tifa was changing the bandage on Yuffie's forehead, hoping that a new one, a bit damper than the one before, would help just a bit. The disease was getting worse much faster than she'd anticipated. The younger girl was in pain and Tifa could do nothing to help, which just made her angry with herself. Why was it happening? Why did it have to happen?

She sighed when Yuffie smiled at her, thanking her.

'There's nothing to thank for,' she replied, stroking her friend's hair.

'Oh, there is,' Yuffie protested. 'You treat me like a human being. I can safely depend on you, because you won't betray me.'

'How can you know that?' Tifa asked, looking away, at the floor, and thinking of Barret, who'd called her a traitor before he died, a traitor because she wasn't sick. 'How can you know I won't betray you?'

'She just knows you enough,' came Vincent's voice from the entrance to the small building. Tifa's new apartment, kind of. She slept there, ate there, tended to wounds there. It really was a miracle she wasn't sick.

'Yuffie knows you, Tifa,' the dark-haired gunman repeated, looking at his two friends, who just looked back, one with suffering on her beautiful face, the other with hope. They noticed the lithe male form Vincent was supporting. 'Tifa. Will you find his friends for me? They are somewhere around.'

The girls stared.

'Isn't that Reno of the Turks?' Yuffie asked finally. 'One of the bad guys?'

Vincent nodded seriously. Tifa stood up. She tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace than anything else. She was suffering more than those infected with geostigma. She was suffering, blaming herself for not being one of them. She didn't see how much they needed her healthy. Poor girl.

'I know where Rude is,' Tifa said softly, avoiding looking at Reno. She knew what she'd see: a broken, sick man who was about to die soon. Like everybody here. Except from her.

She left quickly to find the other Turks.

Vincent held Reno, who didn't protest.

Yuffie knew.

Vincent didn't go back to the healthy city. He said he wanted to help Tifa; after all, he couldn't catch the disease, so he was a perfect person to take care of the sick. Yuffie saw it was a steak of lies. She noticed things. Maybe the others thought she was stupid and her only concern was materia – but it was not true. She noticed things other tended to overlook. And now, she saw the true reason Vincent didn't leave.

He liked Reno, obviously.

Yuffie had nothing against it. There used to be a time, long ago, when she had a little crush on the mysterious Vincent Valentine, but there was nothing left of that anymore. She even felt... happy, because the gunman needed something to brighten him up. Someone. Maybe the Turk was the right person to do that. For now, Yuffie noticed how Vincent looked at Reno when they met. How he would accidentally touch the redhead in one way or another. How he would seek Reno out just to tell him w few words of greeting.

She found it cute, yet sad at the same time. Reno of the Turks was just as sick as everybody else with geostigma. Once a person got infected, there was no telling when they would die. This meant Vincent's crush or whatever it was wouldn't last long. Did he realise it? Or maybe he still hadn't noticed what she knew. Men could be blind.

'What are you thinking?' Tifa asked her suddenly and Yuffie jumped up. Funny how the older girl seemed to be a little happier now that Vincent was there. Or maybe now that he'd brought Reno in? Or the reason was something entirely else.

'Oh, nothing special,' the Wutain princess replied, smiling brightly. It hurt her, because the geostigma was spreading throughout her whole face, making her ugly. But she was not about to become as gloomy as everyone was. She was going to join Aerith at the Lifestream, after all. It was not a sad thing. 'I'm going to hook Vincent up with Reno!' She announced to her startled friend.

'Yuffie, stop joking around!' Tifa chastised her, but a small half-smile found it's way to her face. Apparently, she'd noticed it, too. 'You know Vincent.'

Oh she knew Vincent alright. It wasn't cool. Even if she managed to really hook him up with Reno, well, he wouldn't be happy. Because, Reno would die. And after that, the gunman would blame himself, just like Tifa was blaming herself all the time. He'd lost a beloved person and blamed himself for it already. It would be the same with Reno.

'Ahhh, but it would be fun. They'd look cute kissing,' Yuffie moaned, unhappy. She gave Tifa her best puppy eyes expression. It worked, apparently, because Tifa's face softened as the older girl smiled warmly.

'Okay. Let's hook them up.'

'I wanna go back to Midgar,' Reno said to Rude, feeling helpless and useless. He could only guess what his friend was doing, from the sounds. Something being dipped in water, then Elena's soft hiss of pain as something – the same something – touched her blackened skin. From what he managed to hear, Reno knew the girl had no time left. She was in agony, but her agony was silent. She didn't want to cause problems. She would go calmly.

He wanted to hate the world, but couldn't, because who, if not the Turks, deserved such fate?

'There's nothing left there,' Rude replied, stroking Elena's head to sooth her. It wasn't helping and he was aware of that. Still. 'The radiation would kill you.'

'I wanna die there,' the redhead explained, shaking his head. 'I wanna die...'

'... where he died, I know,' Rude said. Reno couldn't guess his expression. He sighed, because he realised how egoistic it was of him to expect anyone to understand. 'Tell Valentine. He will either take you there or talk you out of it.'

They said nothing else, but both knew what the other wanted to say. If Elena was healthy, they would've gone there a long time ago. If only Elena could survive the journey, they'd go now. But Elena was dying and they couldn't leave her alone, because she was one of them. A Turk had no funeral, but they still wouldn't let their comrade die in loneliness.

Elena died that night, calm and hiding her pain. Her last words were the names of her comrades. Those that were still alive – and the one that died before her.

Reno talked to Vincent Valentine.


	3. Hope

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait for this chapter! But it's here now. Please enjoy it and review! You do realise that I need reviews to continue, right? **wink wink**_

He scratched at his arm the whole time he was talking to Vincent, which resulted in the man pulling up his sleeve and noticing a new spot of geostigma. Reno didn't want him to see, but the itch had been too hard to ignore. Strange, scratching the blackened skin didn't hurt that much. The spot on his back was much worse; maybe it was not only infected, but also bleeding by now. Perhaps some gangrene was also already eating at the dark wound; it was too gross to think about, but also too intriguing not to.

Reno was such a masochist, sometimes.

'You won't survive the journey,' Vincent told him firmly, expecting him to stop talking nonsense, to stop wishing he could go to a place that dangerous. Reno didn't. He felt the other man's fingers gently prodding at his arm, at the spot where a new black wound was probably growing darker and darker. But the stigma didn't scare the redhead. The Turks weren't afraid of anything. Death, even if in pain, was just something they expected at one point or another. Nobody could live forever.

Even though the Turks didn't exist anymore, now that there was no ShinRa Company, no Rufus to order them around, no... no Tseng to keep them from messing things up... Reno still found himself a Turk. Wasn't that his whole life?

'I dun care,' he replied to Vincent's words, smiling simply. 'It's tryin' that counts.'

'Okay,' the gunman said and sighed. 'I will take you to Midgar.'

It was that easy. Reno thought he knew why Vincent agreed that readily: the ex-Turk didn't make it his business to influence people's decisions even when he disagreed with them. That was just who he was. He didn't barge into people's lives and expected others to leave him alone just as well. How he managed to survive around that tiny Wutain girl – Yuffie or whatever her name was – remained a mystery to the redhead.

'When do you want to set out?' The gunman asked before Reno could go back to Rude. "Go", what a stupid name to call what he was doing. He walked around groping the walls and trees, moving slowly not to stumble on something. Not to make a fool out of himself. Whoever said sick people weren't cruel? They laughed at him, at his blindness, even more than the healthy did in their city. As if it were a funny show, meant especially for them. It was not.

'I'm ready when ya ready,' Reno said, flashing Vincent a wide grin. He wasn't about to complain that his fate was miserable here. That he wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, never to hear that laughter at his expanse. Dying somewhere deserted while heading to the destroyed city of Midgar was... appealing. More so than having those bastards thinking they were better than him.

It all just led to death, anyway. Why bother living? Committing suicide, pretending it's some kind of a holy pilgrimage to cleanse his soul – why not? He could. He wanted to. He was about to.

Vincent Valentine took his hand and led him back to Rude, not letting him fall and become something to laugh at.

Tifa stroked Yuffie's hair, wondering if it helped her at all. Instead of plotting and having fun, the tiny Wutain girl was dying. She didn't voice her pain; her vocal cords seemed to be infected, too, and the only sounds Yuffie was able to make were small gasps while breathing. She still smiled at her older friend, though, even though the end was coming soon. Sooner than it should have, although, to be honest, it was always too soon.

Yuffie didn't want to die. But she was not as scared as Tifa and she was aware of that. Dying was easier than hanging around and mourning. Maybe the disease was not a curse? Maybe it was a blessing of the Meteorfall, helping the survivors go and stop hurting themselves with their pointless existence.

They should all go and follow Aerith in the Lifestream...

Do you think they will hook up without me, Tifa?, Yuffie thought, smiling again to herself. She closed her eyes and saw flowers. She swore she could even smell their scent, so vivid and real. It was time to go. She just hoped Tifa would manage somehow. Hmmm, Tifa should hook up with someone nice, too. Like that Rude... he seemed to watch her every move. Oh yes. Tifa should be happy, she did so much to help others.

So, so much.

'Go with us,' Rude offered when Yuffie had been buried. It was not a cemetery; it was a huge hole in the ground where corpses were thrown one after another, covered by a thin layer of sand – there was always a lot of sand around, the world was turning into a desert with nothing else in sight – and with new corpses. A common grave for those that fell prey to the geostigma.

Tifa felt numb, the pain of losing dear ones was too much. She looked up at Rude and shook her head silently, knowing that the man would not take it for an answer. She had trouble believing he was also sick. There was no single spot of geostigma visible on his body, not that he showed his body anyway; still, he felt good. If he'd been sick, there would be symptoms. There were none. Tifa wanted to trust this man. Just because.

'You've got nothing left here,' Rude said, lightly touching Tifa's arm. She shuddered, almost about to cry. Yes, he was right. She had nothing left in Wutai. Marlene would do better with people who treated her right. Tifa couldn't take care of the little girl. She spent too much time with the sick. She couldn't just go back to the city of healthy now.

Nothing left in Wutai. And somewhere out there, maybe on the way to Midgar, was Cloud Strife. Cloud who needed her, maybe. Maybe not. But still, she wanted to see him again. Before he, also, died in pain, like the others. A stupid purpose to live on – and yet, it was a purpose. Not a good one.

It didn't matter.

'I... will prepare everything. We're going to need all the food we can get,' she said, managing a gentle, slightly sad smile at Rude, who almost smiled back. 'Reno will also need lots of water and bandages,' she added thoughtfully after a while. 'Do you think he can make it? To Midgar?' She asked, voice concerned. She knew, in fact, that the redhead wouldn't make it. But she needed to try and believe it was otherwise.

'You never know,' Rude said simply. There was nothing more to speak of, but each other's company was soothing to both. So they just stayed there, Rude helping Tifa pack away the things they needed to take. How long would the journey take? Would any of them ever make it to Midgar... and back?

Not Reno, surely. Reno was going there to die. Rude? He had geostigma. Granted, it wasn't spreading at all since he'd found it on his right arm; but it surely would, in time. Tifa could do it, Tifa could stay alive long enough to see what was left of the city that was once the biggest and greatest in the world. She was strong enough to see it and come back to Wutai. Vincent... he was just an observer.

They were going on a pilgrimage to a sacred place from what felt like thousands of years ago. Maybe they wouldn't come back.

Setting off at sunrise had a kind of a special quality to it. The world was filled with colours Reno couldn't see; the first rays of the sun that could no longer blind him with it's light were warm against his skin. The day was about to be the warmest in weeks. The redhead laughed to himself, feeling dizzy and light-headed. Free, also. He could feel Vincent's firm gaze on himself, devoid of emotion, but emotional at the same time. The man was worried, even if he would never admit it.

Tifa Lockhart went along with them. It wasn't surprising. She had nothing left in the world but a faint hope that Cloud Strife was alive, somewhere. Anywhere. That they would meet once more to say good-bye. A sad, sad hope, Reno decided, shaking his head slightly. The loss of sight made him, surprisingly, more perceptive. He easily read people now, saw through them even though he could not see them. But their tones, their rate of breathing, everything they did while talking to him – he could translate it into their feelings and moods.

Maybe it was better that way. For once, he cared what others could've been thinking. Tseng would've been proud of him.

'It's going to take weeks, Reno,' Vincent said, breaking the silence that was comfortable enough, but needed to be broken. They could still go back. They had only walked for a few hours and going back to Wutai was still an option. A good one if Reno wanted to live. 'You don't have weeks. You have days, at most.'

'I know,' the redhead replied, breathing in the warm air. The last days of fall? Soon, everything would be covered in snow. Snow was beautiful. He'd rarely seen it, it never snowed in Midgar. Now, he'd never see it again. He didn't care much. 'I heard rumors of people gatherin' in Nibelheim. We can go there first, if it's true, they could sell us food,' he said, changing the subject easily. 'Strife might be there,' he added, knowing it would seem probable to Tifa. Plus, visiting her hometown might help her, somehow.

'We have to cross the mountains anyway,' the girl said, nodding her head, which Reno couldn't see, but was sure of. 'Nibelheim is the safest, because I know all the trails in the mountains there.'

'Nibelheim, then,' Vincent agreed. 'Mountains, Costa del Sol, Junon, mountains, Midgar. Great plan,' he muttered to himself. He was the only one who could really make it. He didn't like it one bit. 'Maybe an idea of how to cross the oceans?'

'Ya know it's easy to get to Corel,' Reno shrugged. 'That's how we get to Nibelheim, by boardin' the ship to the continent. And to Junon, well, winter's comin'. Before we get to Costa del Sol, the ocean's gunna freeze.'

'And you're going to die,' Vincent muttered, suddenly grasping the redhead's hand. It was the closest thing to emotion that he'd showed for some time. Reno smiled to himself, but said nothing. What could he say? Life was simple, now. He was on the way to Midgar. He had three people who cared, pretended to care, whatever. If he died before he reached his destination... what was the difference? Midgar, Junon, Nibelheim – they were all the same to him. But he wouldn't wait for his death, doing nothing. Dying on the way... was like dying in action. The only way for the Turks leader's second in command to go.

'Aren't you tired, Reno?' Tifa asked softly, trying to lighten the mood at least a little or something. 'We can stop and eat something,' she offered. Reno shook his head.

'No need fer that,' he said simply.

And so, they went on.

It was well past sunset when they reached the small harbor. There was nothing there, only the ship that waited to take passengers aboard and to the continent. Just that. No shops, no homes, no nothing. Vincent didn't feel good about it. He remembered real harbors that once existed, before the Meteorfall occurred. Most of those places were now many meters below the sea level, buried by the masses of water for eternity. Nothing could come back. The world had ended, after all.

Vincent was the one that bought them tickets for the trip on board of "Hope". Reno found the name of the ship stupid, but he didn't say a thing. His newest ability, it seemed, was to be able to sense when shutting up was a good idea. He'd lacked that in the past; sometimes he still regretted it. Tseng always told him to keep quiet and not get into trouble. Now, he was still alive... while Tseng...

'Don't think, Reno,' Rude said suddenly, knowing his partner all too well. The piece of advice was the only thing he could offer the redhead, because no kind of consolation could really comfort him. Not thinking worked. It would for a while longer. Until the end came.

They boarded "Hope", readying themselves for a trip that might have proved too long for some of them. Their journey was now decided. There was no turning back, maybe there was no turning back since the beginning. Since the moment Reno had thought of going to Midgar. As the ship left the harbor, the redhead cried himself to sleep.


	4. Aren't you tired?

_AN: I swear I didn't mean for it to take so long. Sorry! I also swear that reading WK fanfiction has a positive influence over my work. I mean, it gets even more angsty. _

_A pity that still, in the fourth chapter, NOTHING at all happens. *sigh*Hope you enjoy anyway!_

* * *

"_Aren't you tired, Reno?"_ Tifa had asked and the redhead couldn't stop thinking about it. She didn't mean it in the way he did; she didn't want it to sound like that. Reno smiled to himself, a smile that could or could not reach the others. The truth was, he _was _tired. The journey had just started, but already he knew he wouldn't last until the end. He wouldn't reach Midgar, just because he was not strong enough.

Tseng wouldn't be pleased with him, would he? Not if he gave up.

Thus, he didn't mean to give up.

Still... _Aren't you tired?_ Of course he was. He didn't need the geostigma, nor his blindness, to make him tired. He was tired of living, and he felt bitter at the thought of not dying during the Meteorfall. He should have. Rufus ShinRa was dead. Tseng was dead. Now, Elena also died. He should only be a good boy and follow.

He remembered trying to break free when Rude grabbed his arms so forcefully he was seeing stars. He wanted to run to the center of the explosion, to run there, to reach that place and die along with Tseng. Stupid; the only thing he'd accomplished was staring way too long at the explosion that shook Midgar's fundaments, staring way too long at the bright flames and the rays of light and then, he couldn't see anything anymore.

Tseng died where they thought he was safe. After the Temple of the Ancients, they'd brought him to Midgar, to ShinRa's clinic where he was supposed to come back to health soon. He was safe there, they thought. Reno believed it and didn't worry. The Weapon killed his boss, though. The Meteorfall left no hope.

_Aren't you tired?_

He was more tired than he'd thought. More tired than he should be. He had a goal in life; exhausted as he was, there could never be an instance of accepting his loss. He had to move forward. Even if it killed him.

Especially if it killed him.

_Aren't you tired?_

He was. But in no way could he let go now that he finally knew what he wanted.

* * *

Rocket Town didn't exist anymore and it was no surprise for anyone. Where once a calm city was, now only a huge pool of liquid mako could be found. A hole in the ground filled with what the Lifestream must have been made of. With liquidized nothing.

They only took a few moments to ponder it; after all, they had no business in Rocket Town nor it's remains. They could not stay long, because in those last days of Fall, nights quickly overcame the weak sunlight. Traveling by night meant nothing to Vincent, who was as much of a nocturnal creature as the countless predators that may have wandered the uninhabited plains. To the others, though, it was too risky. Nights were not for humans nowadays. Even daylight didn't give enough protection, and without it... nobody would know death before it came. And it would come; swiftly, never noticed.

The landscape had changed, Vincent duly noted. Where once forests shielded the horizon from prying eyes, now deserts seemed to go on through and through, to forever. Would they be able to reach that forever before their time was up? Walking just behind Reno, pretending not to notice every stumble the man had to fight, every uncertain step he had to take, the gunman had to wonder. But he kept the thoughts to himself, as always; just walking after Reno, even if he was the one leading the way.

They didn't try to cross the desert; it was too new to know what could be dwelling there, and furthermore, they didn't have enough water for the dry climate. It was strange how there seemed to exist a border between the freezing hell of tons of sand and ashes, and the mild steppe covered with dry grass and occasional bushes. It wasn't too cold, yet, not even with the nightfall close, and Vincent wondered for how long they would be this lucky. The path they were taking was a tough one. He didn't know what to do to ensure their safety.

Nibelheim was still days ahead.

The camping place Vincent chose was perfect and he had to admit that. Built in the shade of three rather large stone boulders, their tents were mostly covered from the wind and any wild beasts that could come by. It was also easy to find wood for the fire they wanted to keep burning all night. Tifa insisted on that, her expertise in geostigma dictating her will not to let Reno get cold. The disease liked when the body temperature was low. It attacked more ferociously and much more painfully, leading to death much faster. She'd seen it. She didn't want to see it again.

So now, they sat by the fire, all of the four close to each other, not seeing a reason to fall apart. Their supper was a small one, common sense none of them lacked told them to be rational when it came to food. Because, whatever they wanted to think about it, there might have or they might not have been people in Nibelheim. If that would be the case, their carefulness was fully justified.

Reno laughed.

'It's so stupid,' he said. 'It all is. Why pretend to want to survive? The world's gonna end anyway. We gonna die anyway.'

'Don't lose it, Reno,' Rude said, more like grumbled, just like that, his tone calm and knowing of things the redhead didn't want to think about.

_Aren't you tired?_

'Not gonna,' Reno muttered, almost to himself, reaching forward with his arm, almost touching the fire but not close enough. He'd always been like a moth; light was what called out to him, what ushered him to go forward. Never caring if he'd get burned. He got burned by too much light, much more than he could handle, and while he couldn't see it anymore... nothing could make him stop craving it. The flame might burn his wings, but he would keep on flying, keep on dancing around it until he died.

Moths don't live for long.

'I just dun' wanna think tonight,' the redhead whispered, smiling in apology for not being able to do what others expected of him. Or something. He didn't know what he was apologizing for; he didn't care. He wanted to see the stars, he wondered if there even were any stars left in the sky after that damned Meteorfall. Were there any stars left, or was the Planet wrapped up tightly in the Lifestream, it's flow the only thing that could be seen at night after all of this?

'You should sleep,' Vincent told him, his voice soft, the words obviously meant for him only. Soft and warm and caring, even if the gunman didn't want to admit it. Reno sighed and shook his head. No sleep could come this night. This night was for reminiscence, for memories and there was no sense in fighting to lose consciousness. He didn't even want to.

'Go to sleep,' Rude advised and the reply was a bitter chuckle. Somebody should have been able to understand. Anybody. Whoever. Sleep wouldn't come that night.

_Aren't you tired?_

Aren't you?

'I miss him,' Reno said, tone distant and full of something that couldn't be identified. Then, silence fell, because there was no answer that could mean anything at all. Not from Rude, who understood but couldn't help. Not from Tifa, who didn't understand and didn't think she had the right to. Not from Vincent, who pretended not to care.

_Aren't you tired?_

Yes, he was very tired. But sleep wouldn't come.


	5. Waking up

A/N: Here it is, after all this time. The fifth chapter. Sorry, it's very short. The next one's gonna be longer. And finally, something starts to happen~!

* * *

_The flash of light is painful, making the red-head cry out in agony. He is no longer aware of the arms holding onto him, those strong, protective arms that are trying to stop him from doing something dangerous. Too dangerous even for a Turk._

_But how can he call himself a Turk if now, he can't even protect his own leader? He wants to scream in frustration, to persuade Rude into letting him go. No sound comes out of his throat, and he still can't see, and he wonders if maybe, he is already dead. That could be; he saw the Weapon's attack on Midgar. He saw the ShinRa Tower collapsing like a proverbial tower of cards. And then, there was the flash; maybe it killed him, and he just didn't realise it yet. _

_Something thick is flowing down his cheeks, and his eyes hurt like all hells. Does death hurt? He hopes it doesn't. Because somewhere in there, in the crumbled remains of the world's biggest Empire, someone he loves almost certainly died. Or is dying. Will they meet in the Lifestream? Isn't that Lifestream-shit complete bull, anyway? _

_He feels empty all of a sudden. He's not dead; and he's blind. He can't see, he can't even see what is happening; Rude is pulling him away from where they are, away from Midgar, even further away, muttering something about the Meteor. Reno wonders why bother; the Meteor can't be stopped now and... that means they will all die, at any rate._

_Yesterday, he was still full of hope. They managed to save Tseng from the Temple of the Ancients, after all, and the man was put in ShinRa's clinic facility. The safest place in the world... that just fell apart in a blink of an eye. And everything was lost._

_'We're gonna die, Rude,' Reno says, or maybe he just wants to say it, because in the overwhelming noise of destruction and people's screams, he can't hear his own words. 'This is the end of the world. Watch it fer me, 'cuz I can't see.'_

_* * *_

Reno woke up with a start in the middle of the night, or so he suspected. He was sure he's the only one awake, except maybe Vincent. Being blind made him realise such things easier. He was thankful for the sharpening of his other senses when one had been taken away. It didn't make up for the lost sight, but at least made living easier.

He wasn't certain of what woke him up; normally, even from such a dream, he couldn't be woken easily. And, while he was at it... why such a dream, now? It had been a while since that had happened. Dreaming about the past... about the helplessness he'd felt back then, and the pain. He rubbed at his blind eyes and was disgusted when he felt something thick and warm on his hand. Blood. They were bleeding again. Was this what woke him up?

He carried soft, clean handkerchiefs with him all the time. Rude made him; he said that in order for his eyes not to get infected with anything, he had to remove the blood as soon as it came. As if that made any difference. Reno knew one thing they all didn't: his geostigma was much more progressed than they thought. The spot on his back was nothing. Even blind, he was absolutely sure that the blood he was now carefully cleaning his eyes and cheeks from was black. The texture, the smell, it was all too well known.

With a soft sigh, the Turk wrapped a piece of cloth around his head, covering his eyes. If Tifa could see the blood, she would no doubt tell Vincent, and that would end their journey. Reno could not let that happen. He wasn't about to die in a pathetic place like Wutai.

He stiffened, suddenly. He heard something; a distant sound, but there was no mistaking it. It was an engine, most probably of a motorcycle. No... make that three motorcycles. They were far away... getting further away with each passing second, until the only sounds Reno could hear were the breaths of Tifa and Rude, and his own frantic heartbeat.

People on motorbikes? Who in the world could that have been? He only knew of one person who had a motorbike, and that person was probably somewhere far away, fighting with his own demons and trying not to die yet. This was fishy. Even if the rumours about people in Nibelheim were true, the town was still too far ahead. Same went for Corel, plus Reno knew for sure that they lacked such means of transport there. But then... who?

Because he wasn't just hearing things.

With a sigh, the Turk got up and carefully left the tent, taking little steps. He hated his vulnerability, but as he could do nothing about it, he was just angry at himself for being hopeless. And, all of a sudden, he realised the change.

Yesterday, before going to sleep, he was broken. He just wanted to die on the way to Midgar, he just wanted to be rid of the suffering. He didn't care about the world, about the end, about the living. A walking corpse, too prideful to rot away where others could see him.

This... changed overnight. A fire was inside him, a fire he thought long since extinguished. He craved for something, anything, to happen. It felt wonderful, reminding him of the good old days when the Turks got all the action. Somehow... even if just for a while... life itself felt worth living.

Vincent was just outside of the tent, watching the fire and probably brooding. Reno could easily imagine the man's expression of thoughtfulness and a kind of sadness. He wondered if the gunman knew how to smile. For some reason, imagination failed him when he tried to picture it. He wasn't particularly good with such things, anyway, so he discarded the idea easily and simply moved closer to the source of warmth that was the fire.

'What woke you up?' Valentine asked. No "did you sleep well", no "what happened to your eyes". Reno didn't expect concern, so he was not surprised to receive none; somebody else might have been disappointed, but the Turk learned not to be in the years he'd been Tseng's subordinate. Almost funny how the two were similar. Almost.

'I dunno,' Reno replied truthfully. It might have been the bleeding, but it could, just as well, have been the sounds of motorcycles. He has no idea. 'Thought I heard sumthin',' he added after a while of silence. 'Like engines.'

'You did,' Vincent said softly. Reno could feel the man shifting closer to him and, soon after, a piece of cool metal touched his face. Valentine's left, clawed hand. It went up his cheek and finally removed the cloth. The older man released a sharp breath at what he saw and Reno thought it was over.

A will to fight built up in him. He wasn't about to go back to Wutai. He was going to reach Midgar and say a proper good-bye to those left behind. He was going to say good-bye to the girl in the slums that he'd thought about dating. He was going to say good-bye to the owner of that very nice bar down in Sector Six. He was going to say good-bye to Rufus ShinRa, who was a much better boss than his father had been, because he'd never treated his Turks as his private property. And finally, he was going to say good-bye to Tseng, his leader and the person who was the most important to him in the world.

'I haven't noticed...' Vincent muttered, and he was so close, Reno could feel his breath on his face. It didn't feel bad. 'For how long?'

'Since the Meteorfall,' the Turk answered. 'Hid it well. I'm not goin' back to Wutai, Valentine.'

'I know. It's too late to force you to,' was the man's nearly inaudible reply. He removed the claw from Reno's face and used his good hand to put the cloth back on, hiding the red-head's eyes once more. 'I saw... I think I saw Sephiroth.'

It took a while for the information to sink in. When it did, Reno shook his head. It was impossible and Vincent must have known that. Sephiroth... was probably dead. Cloud Strife, who didn't manage to save the world, did manage to destroy the nightmare that caused it all. Didn't he? Nobody had seen the madman since the Meteorfall. He couldn't just come back like that... even if he'd already done that, once upon a time.

'When the dawn comes, we are going to head as far south as possible. I think that we can reach Nibelheim in less than two days if we proceed with this speed,' Valentine said after more minutes passed in silence. Reno nodded. It felt like going to Nibelheim was the right decision. As if something was waiting for them there. Something more than the confirmation of whether the rumours of people living there were true or not.

* * *

They ate a small breakfast just before dawn and packed up. Nobody asked Reno about his eyes; and the redhead changed the cloth to a clean one right before they headed out. Today's scenery varied from what they could have seen the day before, or at least Reno thought so. Instead of the tall, dry grass that had the unnerving tendency to scratch his legs, he felt something soft beneath his feet. And the air kept getting more and more fresh with each passing hour as they progressed forward.

'I can hear water,' Tifa said suddenly, astonished. She knew this area most of them all, and yet the surprise was clear in her voice. Because the closest river, stream or anything was supposed to be beyond Nibelheim, and not nearby. Did the Meteorfall manage to change even the topography of the continents? If so... what did other places look like?... Was there even a Midgar to go back to?

'I'm going to check it,' Vincent decided, and it was meant as a clue for the others not to move. Reno found his behaviour a bit paranoid and knew it was caused by the fact that the man thought he'd seen Sephiroth. He doubted that the sound of water could be anything dangerous.

And if it was... well, he wanted to fight, anyway. He was positive that he could take on a beast or two even in his current state. Even with the icky black blood soaking the cloth, even with his unseeing eyes hurting like a bitch. There were times when he'd fought in worse conditions, blind in the darkness, and stuff. His missions didn't exactly involve playing with kids. He was a Turk. He lived to do his bidding; he lived to kill and he killed to live. There was no mercy for those that could not do as told, who could not fulfil the objective.

_Like Cissnei, _his mind supplied helpfully. _You still can't forget Cissnei. Even after all these years._

Yes. He still couldn't forget Cissnei, even though it had been many years since she'd died. The girl was a bit younger than him and she'd been in the Turks before he came. From the first moment, they decided they were the best of friends. He treated her like somebody important. A member of the gang at first, since that was the only thing he'd known at the time; as months passed, his trust for her grew and she became a little sister to him. A precious little sister that he wanted to protect against the world.

_You didn't. She wanted to be strong for herself, and she failed, because you couldn't protect her just once._

He shook his head. Now was not the time to think about it. Once he reached Midgar, he could stay still for the eternity, remembering the past and regretting things he could do nothing about. Now was not the time for it. Now was the time to act, to do something meaningful, even if only for himself.

Vincent came back after a few more minutes and led them ahead, which meant the way was not dangerous and no Sephiroth was lurking around the corner. Reno smiled to himself, and then got serious when Vincent's hand touched his own. He knew what the man wanted to do; he knew that the gunman intended to help him walk, just as he had done the day before. The redhead didn't need that. Whatever happened at night, it made him a bit stronger. It made him a little bit more independent.

Instead of Vincent's hand, he grabbed a stick that he'd found while the man was away. Leaning on it for support felt better than leaning on another human being. Now, if only there were some asses to kick...

Reno finally felt like a Turk. And the end of the world didn't matter at all. For now.


	6. The dream

A/N: This update is as late as can be. I honestly don't know when I will write a new one. I'm very sorry; I've simply moved on from the FFVII fandom. But I promise not to abandon this story!

Cloud had a dream each time he closed his eyes. In that dream, he was on a flower field that seemed to go on forever. There was nobody else there but him, yet the place didn't feel lonely. If he could, he would stay there forever, in the safe, painless, bright meadow, curled up among the flowers, listening to the comfortable silence that calmed his nerves and eased the guilt in his heart.

Every time he woke up, he wanted to cry and beg for that dream to fall over him forever. He had no tears left to cry, however. He shed all of them during the months that had passed since the Meteorfall, which he should have prevented, and yet he couldn't.

Nobody seemed to blame him, even though this end of the world was his own fault. They didn't understand. They probably couldn't understand, since they hadn't shared that bond with Sephiroth he had, that responsibility to stop the madman. The responsibility was his alone.

That was surely why he couldn't lie down to an endless sleep, dreaming about that secure place that brought peace over his tormented soul. He had failed, and this was his hell, where he had to repent; so he was only allowed to see the heaven in his dreams in order to invoke a longing in him. He supposed it was only fair that he was confined to what remained of the world, infected with Geostigma, depressed and lonely.

'You're looking worse for wear each day, kiddo,' Cid told him.

Cid Highwind was hard person to understand. He could have stayed in one of the safety camps, and yet he chose to journey through the dangerous, collapsed world as a companion for Cloud in his misery. He wasn't infected with Geostigma, somehow, yet he wasn't afraid to touch Cloud, to be in his presence. He seemed to worry about him; sometimes, when Cloud couldn't be bothered to change the bandages on the black, rotten spots on his skin, Cid would do that for him, berating him for his lack of maturity while doing so. At those moments, Cloud felt cared for.

It scared him. He didn't think he deserved it. After all that had happened, he was not worthy of caring, of the warmth that another human being's touch could bring. Once, there existed a time when he used to think he could be happy. That time was long gone, and it was his fault.

He wished Cid could see it. He wished with all his might that the man would finally realize what a waste of time following him was, and go back to where he could live somewhat peacefully. Yet months went by, and Cid was still by his side, journeying through the wastelands towards an undetermined destination.

'Midgar,' said Cloud, after waking up from the flower-filled, peaceful dream once more. He felt a sense of purpose, which was strange. It was as if a voice told him, on the edge of the sleep, just between the dream and reality, that he should head to the destroyed city, that something awaited him there. 'Let's go to Midgar.'

Cid didn't argue. 'Might as well go there as anywhere,' he stated, but his expression said it all: he felt it too. That elusive presence, encouraging, prodding, pointing them to a direction they would never have taken.

For some reason, Cloud felt the sense of security from the dream overcoming him. Maybe, just maybe, his sins could be forgiven, and he would be able to find peace in the ruins of the fallen capital. He had a feeling that back there, among the debris and dust, he would still find a small flowerbed where a church had once been, and the sanctity of that place would give him redemption.

'Yeah, let's go to Midgar...' Cloud said, closing his eyes. When he did that, he could almost smell the distinct fragrance of flowers that didn't belong in this world, almost feel a gentle, small hand touching his face in a reassuring gesture. He could almost believe everything was going to be alright in the end, one way or another. 'Let's go to Midgar. They will meet us there...'

They had seen many places during their purposeless journey. Everywhere was an empty desert of dust and rocks, devoid or almost devoid of life; if something managed to survive the Fall, it became vile, twisted beyond recognition. Cid explained that it must have been caused by the spills of Lifestream, which contaminated the waters and the ground; in a way, the humanity had had it coming. The mindless exploitation of energy that had never been theirs to begin with would have ended in the same result as the Meteorfall, sooner or later.

It didn't matter. The world was on the verge of dying, only holding on to spite the one who arranged its destruction. Inhabited by degenerated creatures that fought over pieces of nothing and devoured each other, mindless of their own approaching extinction.

Cloud had killed many of those monstrosities along the way, with Cid by his side. Things that sneaked up on them at nightfall, things that could or could not have been humane in the past. Blind, covered in rotten blemishes and black, thick blood, the creatures attacked in a fury befitting of something distorted, primal and suffering. With each swing of his sword, Cloud accepted their anger and, blaming himself for their senseless pain, he ended their pointless, hurtful existence.

He had taken many lives, because he was unable to save anyone.

Everything felt different, though, now that he had a purpose in his life. Even though the scenery was still shrouded in impenetrable darkness. Even though shadows out of horror stories still lurked in the night. Even though nothing was right, because there was only emptiness and decomposition.

A light shone in the distance. Cloud wanted to catch it, to hold it and curl into a dream-filled, peaceful sleep.

'Getting there will take time, kiddo,' Cid warned him. Cloud knew he was right, but said nothing in return. What was there to say? That he was no longer that impatient, carefree man that he used to be back in the days before the end of the world? There was no need, since of course Cid was aware of that.

Cloud supposed that his older companion was just trying to get him to talk. Their journey had been a silent one since the beginning. They rarely had the need to communicate with words, since in the days – months? - they'd spent together, they learned to guess what the other was thinking just by reading small signs, like gestures and expressions. Their bond was something Cloud didn't really understand, but he cherished it all the same. Without Cid, this journey would have ended long ago, fruitless and and devoid of meaning, with Cloud dead in a deserted place somewhere in the darkness, devoured by creatures that no longer bore a resemblance to what they had been. It was Cid who kept him alive and helped him go forward.

In time, Cloud got used to it and accepted it as something natural. He knew that he didn't need to use words for Cid to support and follow him. He liked it this way.

Sometimes, though, it felt lonely. Cloud was convinced that Cid missed the lively conversations and human voices from the life before the Meteorfall; for the older man's sake, he would sometimes let himself be involved in a long conversation about nothing in particular... about friends they had left behind, about lives they used to have. About things that wouldn't return, no matter what they did. About the lands that changed beyond recognition and would keep changing until nothing alive could survive there. About lost dreams and lost companions.

He was about to speak, when he heard a strange noise. It sounded like... an engine running? But that was impossible. Not only were those wastelands completely deserted, engines required fuel, and he really didn't imagine there being much of that left after the Meteorfall, especially not in the deserts surrounding the epicentre. As far as he knew, most of the remaining fuel supplies could be found in Wutai and were heavily protected, used only for purposes essential for living.

And yet, the sound was unmistakable. The drone of an engine was getting closer, but the source was still invisible, impossible to find in the desert that carried the sound so well in the emptiness. Cloud was vaguely aware of Cid standing at his back, attentive and observant as he always was when he sensed something dangerous approaching. He was grateful; even though they hadn't determined yet whether what was coming was indeed harmful, they needed to be prepared for the prospect of a battle.

Finally, Cloud saw it. Far away, in the distance, blurred by the mist, was a huge motorcycle with a rider in black. It was hard to tell anything specific about both the machine and the rider, since it was long past daytime and even during the earlier hours, sunlight didn't reach these parts of the continent. In the darkness, only thinned by the motorcycle's headlight, nothing could be seen but one thing.

The rider, who had stopped his machine and got off, had silver hair.

'Sephiroth...' Cloud hissed, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening. But something was different about this person; he, who had known Sephiroth like nobody else in the world, could feel it instantly.

There was no madness, no intent to kill and destroy in the person now heading in their direction. No aura of power and arrogance. Even if he looked similar (of which Cloud couldn't really be sure; throughout the journey, he had learned to depend on his senses other than sight, since the latter proved almost useless in this new, corrupted world), he was certainly not the madman who had single-handedly brought about the end of the world.

Still, feeling the silent support from Cid, Cloud attacked. He had to make sure. He couldn't afford to depend on his instinct, on distinct feelings that could be easily tricked; what good would it do him if he died in such a place because of carelessness? So he attacked in a swift motion and was surprised when his attack was stopped easily by the rider's double-bladed sword, as if he had anticipated it.

Feeling a rare rush of adrenaline, Cloud swung his weapon again and again, only to be countered skilfully by his opponent; despite the situation, he found himself slowly calming down. This fighting style had nothing to do with what he had experienced from Sephiroth in the past. It was not him.

Sephiroth was dead.

He needed to believe it.

Breathing heavily, he backed off, his grip on the hilt of his sword slackening. He could hear his heart beating wildly. His Geostigma-infected wounds hurt, but it didn't matter. The fight, however short and one-sided, made him feel more alive than anything in the many months following the Meteorfall.

Something was changing.

'Who are you?' He asked softly, although now that he had confirmed the rider was not Sephiroth, he didn't really care anymore.

'You will know soon enough,' said the rider. He sounded young, like a child that hadn't finished transforming into a man yet. 'I was told to bring this to you. _He _seemed to think you would appreciate it,' he added.

On his outstretched hand sat a bright flower. It seemed to radiate a strange light, ephemeral and beautiful in the threatening darkness. Unsure, Cloud took it and a sense of peace filled him instantly when his fingers closed over the stem. The flower was the same as the ones on the meadow in his dream... the same as the ones _she _had in her small garden in an abandoned church.

'It will guide you on the way,' the silver-haired rider's voice said from the distance; Cloud hadn't even noticed him moving, but he could tell the man was already mounting his motorcycle. 'We will meet again in Midgar, _big brother_.'

With those parting words, the rider rode off into the darkness, leaving Cloud and Cid behind in the darkness that seemed less dark than before.

They both had many questions. Answers awaited in Midgar.


End file.
